It seems like a thousand things have happened, yet I can't seem to put any of it into words. I feel like I'm hovering above a cloud of unrelated occurances and feelings, all knocking into each other like hot molecules, affecting each other and affecting me, though how, I don't exactly know. Richard says motion begets evolution, and maybe like evolution, things are happening too slowly for me to actually witness. I only know after it's already there, fully developed; somehow I seem to miss out on the process.
***
It's even better news if you live where I do: Helms retires.
|
|
HOME
FROM THE ARCHIVES:  
People We Like. I've got a new photo in The Morning News: the co-owners of Frank White, an unusual coffee shop in my neighborhood. — 07.17.08 Charles Atlas will make a man of you! "Against Atlas' better judgment, I declined performing all of my exercises in the nude." (accompanying shirtless photo of the author taken by me.) — 07.17.08 Cat on a Leash. I am totally buying a leash for Coleman asap. — 06.25.08 The Brooklynites. Great photos of a wide range of people from my favorite borough. (Thanks to Kurt [a talented photographer himself] for passing this on.) — 12.19.07 Killer Boob. My childhood (and current!) friend Sarah talks about her experience with breast cancer on her well written and charming blog. She's an American living in Belgium and happens to be one of the best people I know. — 12.19.07 |
© 2001–2008 Lisa Whiteman | RSS Feed | Powered by Movable Type